I raised a brow. "Really..."
I hadn’t expected her to agree so easily. Not after everything between us. I thought there’d be more pushback, more hesitation, maybe another cutting remark about how she wanted my head on a spike.
But instead, without waiting for to question it further, she lifted her hand and began the oath. Just like that. As if she already knew where this path would eventually lead—and chose it anyway.
"I, Zivra, daughter of Jael, swear in the na of Lord Drugar not to use my ability against any mber of the..."
She trailed off, glancing sideways at , one brow slightly raised like she was waiting for a prompt.
"The Jade Midgets," I muttered.
Her expression didn’t change, but I swore I saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
"...Jade Midgets clan without permission from the chief," she continued. "If I refuse to keep this oath, may I be struck down to death."
Her voice didn’t waver. Not once.
And just like that, it was done.
No blood pact. No dramatic surge of power. Just words, firm and binding.
A vow that, in this world, mattered more than most weapons.
Ai... that was a bit more dramatic than I’d intended.
I wasn’t planning on tying the consequences to death. Sothing like what happened with the Ember Fox would’ve been enough—intense pain, maybe temporary paralysis. A warning, not an execution. But she’d spoken the words herself, and once they were said in the na of Drugar, there was no walking them back.
It was done.
A series of faint glimrs shimred in the air around her, barely perceptible to any normal eye—but I could see them. Oath chains. Invisible, ethereal, but real enough in this world. They manifested in thin, pale threads, winding through the air like silk spun from moonlight, wrapping around her wrists, shoulders, chest—then piercing directly into her heart.
They pulsed once, then faded from view.
Sealed.
I let out a slow breath, the weight of that mont settling into my bones. She was bound to the oath now. As was I—soon enough.
"Alright then..." I muttered under my breath, lifting my chin slightly before speaking aloud.
"I, Chief of the Jade Midgets clan, swear in the na of Lord Drugar to grant permission for Zivra to use her abilities against whenever she tells she is ready to face . If I refuse, may I be struck down."
The words left my mouth like iron, heavy, unshakable, and a second later, I felt it.
A chill, sharp and imdiate, pressed against the back of my neck and down my spine. Like unseen eyes had taken notice.
But even as the chill of the oath sank into my bones, a question nagged at the back of my mind—one I couldn’t ignore.
How was I still able to invoke Lord Drugar’s na for an oath?
After everything that happened during that encounter... after I stood face to face with His avatar, that being of wrath and judgnt, who’d looked at not as a servant but as sothing foreign. Sothing wrong. He had called an anomaly. A flaw. And he would’ve erased on the spot—had it not been for that sudden flash of light.
That interruption.
That saving grace.
Whatever it was, it had stopped Him—but not out of rcy. I rembered the way the light pushed everything back like it had authority even He couldn’t ignore. It had spared , but not explained why.
So then... why now? Why did the oath still work in His na?
Was it habit? Or did Lord Drugar still acknowledge sohow—despite seeing what I truly was?
The thought lingered as the last traces of the oath faded into silence.
Zivra gave a small nod, seemingly satisfied with the ritual’s end.
Then, without warning, her knees buckled and she collapsed forward, catching herself with both hands before she hit the ground completely.
And then, quietly—like it was the last thing she had left in her—she spoke.
"I, Zivra, swear loyalty."
Ding!
[A goblin has joined your clan]
The notification appeared in the corner of my vision, and I felt it—a flicker of warmth in my chest. Not just relief. Not just completion.
Elated. That was the word.
Zivra, for all her thorns, for all her hatred, had finally yielded.
Not because I forced her.
But because, in her own way, she’d chosen to.
And that ant sothing.
"Alright then..." I said, grinning as I stepped closer and extended a hand toward the kneeling goblin in front of . "Let’s return to the clan, shall we?"
Zivra glanced up at , her expression still guarded, but the fight was gone from her eyes. Slowly, hesitantly, she extended her hand toward mine. The mont our fingers touched, I gripped hers firmly—not just for support, but to make it clear that this was real. That she was one of us now, whether she fully accepted it or not.
Then I activated [Warp].
The world shifted, air bending around us like stretched fabric, the forest vanishing in a blink.
When the world snapped back into focus, we were standing right where I’d aid—at the seal I’d placed on Flogga. She hadn’t moved away from where I left her.
Still stationed behind the massive pot of stew, only now she was ladling thick servings into mismatched wooden bowls with practiced rhythm.
The warm scent of spiced at and wildroot hit imdiately.
The feast was in full swing.
Most of the goblins were gathered around makeshift tables and boxes, stuffing their faces like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Except a few key faces were missing—Narg, Gobbo, Dribb, Zonk, Zarah, and of course, Ariel, the ember fox.
Thok, the troll, and several of the other core goblins were present, though, seated among the newer recruits who still wore the uncertainty of fresh arrivals.
The mont Zivra and I appeared in a blink of light, the new ones jumped, scrambling in surprise, a few even knocking over their bowls.
The veterans barely blinked.
They were used to it by now.
Flogga glanced over her shoulder at the sudden disturbance.
Her eyes t mine, and she gave a small grunt.
"Young totem, you’re back. Sit. Have a al."
Then her eyes shifted as she noticed the figure standing just behind .
Her expression didn’t change, but I caught the way her head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to signal a question forming.
"Who’s the female?"
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